No Run for Your Life
by Laura x Tennant
Summary: Just a little AU oneshot idea I had of a rather different first meeting between the Doctor and Rose. Might extend this in the future  if people like it and if I have time  but for now, here it is.
1. Chapter 1

**_No Run for Your Life_**

_(not yet, anyway)_

_~x~_

_What if the Time War hadn't happened? What if all his people were still alive, and Gallifrey had not burned? What if he'd met Rose Tyler during his tenth incarnation instead of his ninth, and instead of being guilt-ridden and vulnerable, he was as rude to humans and as cast out from the Time Lords as he'd always been?_

_What if they'd met in an entirely mundane and ordinary way? What then?_

_With no danger to run from, would he have still taken hold of her hand?_

_~x~_

The Doctor sat on a bench in a park in London with a bag of chips in his lap. He watched the hustle and bustle of the commuters and the tourists, and jiggled his leg restlessly. He was so _bored._

He couldn't believe they'd gone and exiled him again. Honestly, he'd only been trying to save a Zorkton's life, but _apparently _that particular Zorkton was a spy that needed to be gotten rid of, yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah. So what if he'd got in the way of his high-and-mighty President's assassination plan? He hadn't done it on _purpose!_

(Oh alright. Maybe he had. But only because he wasn't keen on the way his species were becoming more pompous and self-righteous and interfering [in all the wrong ways] by the nanosecond.)

So here he was, banned from returning to Gallifrey for the foreseeable future (not that he'd want to go back to those arrogant, egotistical, ungrateful bastards anyway) and exiled to Earth (again) without the use of his beloved blue box. His poor TARDIS. At least he still had her with him, so he didn't have to do something awful like get a mortgage. But they'd disabled her 'flying' abilities for six whole _months._

To make matters worse, Liz and Jo weren't here like they were last time he had to suffer this fate, UNIT had gotten even more gun-friendly, and the Brig had retired. So no way was he going back _there._

Add to that the fact that he was in the twenty-first century, which was arguably even worse than the previous one in terms of culture, music and social conventions, then he was well and truly miserable.

Plus, every time he'd try and cause some trouble

(it was the only way he knew how to _meet _people; forgive him for it)

things'd be resolved far too quickly, just to spite him. And any sort of conversation he'd engaged in thus far with these primitive apes had ended up as boring at best, largely depressing at worst.

Why couldn't he find anyone _interesting_ to talk to in this over-populated, under-evolved world –

"Blimey, you look like you could use a hug!"

The Doctor blinked in confusion as a kind female voice registered in his close proximity. He turned his head swiftly and found himself staring at a young woman – nineteen? Maybe twenty – with dyed blonde hair and over-mascara-ed eyes.

Great, he thought sarcastically, another random, probably uneducated teenager pestering – hold on.

Had she just offered him a _hug? _

That wasn't right. These happy-slapping, ASBO-holding London youths didn't offer _hugs _to complete strangers...

He sniffed in contemplation; maybe this one wouldn't be too bad.

"Hello?" she called, sitting down next to him and starting to giggle. "Anyone home?"

He realised he hadn't yet replied to her. Oops.

"Yes, sorry," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm the Doctor."

"I'm Rose." She squinted at him thoughtfully. "So, people call you that, do they? Just, 'the Doctor?'"

"What's wrong with that?" he retorted indignantly, before eating another chip with a frown on his face.

"Nothing," she assured him. "Pretty unique. It's...nice. Anyway! I just wanted to tell you that it's a bright, sunny day and the birds are singing, so you've got no business sitting here looking so miserable."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"Yep," she grinned. She moved closer slightly then added, her expression softening, "Course, if something terrible has happened to you then fair enough. Want to talk about it? I'm a good listener, apparently."

He blinked at her in confusion. "Um. No, I'm, I'm fine, thank you," he mumbled. "Why do you care, anyway?" he found himself asking (a bit rudely, but then, when wasn't he? Rude and not ginger, that was him.)

Rose shrugged. "Felt like making conversation. I was sitting over there, on my own and bored - " she paused, and nicked one of his chips. He grinned randomly as he watched her do this, not knowing why he was doing so but realising that it felt good, it was good to grin – why didn't he do that more often? - and she, well...

She was...

Interesting.

Worth grinning at, surely.

The way she ate that chip –

No, wait, hold on, that...that...that was nonsense, he was the Doctor, he didn't think about things like girls and the way they ate chips! He shook his head. What was wrong with him?

Blimey. He'd only been here a couple of days and now it seemed he was picking up bad habits.

" – and you looked to be in a similar predicament, so I came over," she concluded.

"Right. Okay. Nice logic," he approved.

She took another chip. "Thanks!"

He coughed awkwardly, feeling a little bit flustered when she turned that brilliant smile on him again – goodness knew why he felt so...intrigued...by this virtual stranger, but...

Anyway.

"So, you live around here?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nope. I live...far away. Well, sort of. I s'pose I don't really have a home, more a...spaceship."

He winced internally, thinking he'd probably just gone and lost her company with that not-clever sentence.

"Spaceship," she replied flatly.

"Yeah," was his meek response.

"Either you're insane or just _really _into sci-fi."

"Or an alien," he suggested, wanting to see how she'd respond to _that, _for some inexplicable reason.

She laughed. "Prove it."

"Okay. I'll show it to you later."

"Show me what?"

"My spaceship. The TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimensions In Space."

She raised her eyebrows but nodded placatingly. "Right. Okdokey, you do that." She paused, considering his words again. "Unless that's a really cheesy pick-up line that I've not heard before and so don't understand?"

"It's not a pick-up line!" he retorted, offended. "But never mind that. You, in any case, are from here, I take it?"

"Nah, I'm from Mars, mate," she joked, winking at him.

He shook his head. "No you're not," he told her. "You look nothing like an Ice Warrior."

She giggled again, highly amused. "Alright then. I'm just plain old human. I live at the Powell Estate, London, England, Earth, the Solar System. It's a rubbishy place, you wouldn't have heard of it, but I grew up there, so I guess it's home. I live in a flat with my-"

(If she said boyfriend then he thought, rather oddly, that he'd be immensely disappointed)

"- mum, Jackie."

(Ah. Good. Good. No but wait, she might still have a boyfriend...how could he ask, without it seeming very human, like he was asking her on a date or something? Which he wasn't, course not, absolutely would never do that, no. Never. He didn't do dates. Besides, she was a young, pretty human woman; she was bound to have a boyfriend...)

"Right," he nodded. "So. Um..."

"So, returning to your sci-fi obsession," began Rose. He rolled his eyes but before he could interrupt she continued, "My friend – well, ex-boyfriend – Mickey, he's into that stuff. Not as much as he likes video games, but he does watch a lot of sci-fi type films. Bet you're more of a fanatic, though. And comic books; I bet you like comic books! You look the type."

(He did like comic books, actually, but he highly resented being told he looked like 'the type.')

"How do I 'look the type?'" he asked her, baffled.

She shrugged his question away. "So, Star Trek or Star Wars?" she grinned.

"Neither," he answered, crossing his arms in distaste. "They are far too inaccurate. Weeelll, apart from – no, never mind. No, I point and laugh at shows like those. Humans won't make scientifically accurate sci-fi shows for another few centuries."

She rolled her eyes. "Science _fiction, _Doctor. Not s'posed to be accurate. If aliens even exist - "

"You've got one sitting right in front of you!" he pointed out, but she still seemed to think he was lying about that fact because she ignored him and continued on.

"- and anyway, thought you said you had a spaceship, not a time machine," she grinned.

He rolled his eyes impatiently. "I _told _you – the TARDIS, _Time _and Relative Dimensions in Space. Time-travelling spaceship."

"Soooo, what kind of alien are you?" she asked indulgently.

"I'm a Time Lord. I come from a planet called Gallifrey," he told her honestly. "Highly evolved and telepathic, we are."

"What am I thinking right now, then?" she asked him, her smile widening as she thought she'd caught him out.

"I can only read someone's mind if I'm touching their temples," he informed her.

She caught his hand in hers and lifted it to the side of her head. "Go on, then."

"No," he refused, shifting uncomfortably. "It wouldn't be right. It's...it's..."

"Intimate?" she suggested, and giggled when he blushed.

He cleared his throat. "Yes," he muttered.

"Alright then, I'll let you off that one," she smiled. She giggled again, and he considered that he was swiftly becoming very fond of the sound. "Well, I certainly didn't expect this conversation," she said.

"What did you expect?" he asked anxiously.

She shrugged. "Wasn't sure you'd even talk to me, actually. Thought you might tell me to shove off."

"Why would I do that?" he asked wonderingly.

"One of three reasons. One – you're pathologically depressed and feeling very anti-social right now; two – you think I'm a nutter for randomly chatting away to a complete stranger; or three – you're waiting for your girlfriend or wife who wouldn't take to kindly to seeing you talking to a young blonde." She grinned at him, and stole another – now cold – chip.

He grinned back. "Weeelll, one – I'm not pathologically depressed, just bored; two – I don't think you're _that _much of a nutter, and the percentage of crazy that I do think you are is exactly the right amount a person should be; and three – I don't have a girlfriend or a wife."

(Her mentioning the girlfriend thing had reminded him about his earlier ponderings about her possible boyfriend. He remembered she'd said something earlier about an ex, though...which was promising...

Not that it actually mattered to him at all whether she was attached or not. No. Course not.

But it would make things easier if she was single, considering he maybe sort of fancied her a bit.

Even though he couldn't possibly fancy her, because he was a Time Lord. Time Lords didn't do that sort of thing, and he'd certainly never entertained the notion before.

Except maybe she was the exception, because _blimey – _her giggle...and that _smile...)_

"No?" she asked innocently.

"Nope."

"Boyfriend?" she inquired casually.

"Nope," he repeated.

"Right." She nodded, as if coming to a conclusion. "Commitment-phobe," she surmised.

"Hey!" he protested. "I've _been _married, actually."

"But you're not anymore."

"Well, no..."

"Because...?"

"Well, I...sort of...wandered...off. But anyway!" he added hurriedly. "It was an arranged marriage, so it doesn't count!"

Rose rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "If you say so."

"Why were you so surprised, before?" he asked her curiously, subtly edging closer. "That I don't have a girlfriend or whatnot?"

"Well. 'Cos you're sort of handsome, I s'pose."

"'Sort of?'" he repeated, wrinkling his nose up.

"Yeah. Sort of," she nodded, looking like she was suppressing a grin.

"Right. Right," he muttered.

"I don't have a boyfriend, in case you're wondering."

"Why would I wonder about that?" he denied.

She shrugged. "Same reason I wanted to know if you had a girlfriend, probably."

His eyes widened. He thought for a moment. "Rose..."

"Yeah?"

"Are we flirting? Is that what we're doing here?" he asked her, genuinely interested.

She blinked at him in confusion. "Blimey, you really are an alien."

He grinned. "Told you." Then his grin faded. "Hang on, was that an insult?"

"Maybe," she laughed. "Definitely."

"Oh. Well, that's rude."

"Sorry."

"I forgive you."

Both are silent for a few long seconds, simply staring at each other, both slightly leaning in; then Rose piped up, "Okay, so this is gonna sound really weird."

"I told you I'm an alien and you think whatever you've got to say is going to sound weird?"

"Good point. But it is a bit weird."

"I'm intrigued. Go on."

"Do you want to go for a drink?"

He raised his eyebrows. "How is that weird?"

"Well, because we met like five minutes ago and I'm asking you on a date."

"You're asking _me_ on a _date?"_ he spluttered.

"Alright, don't then. Your loss." She shrugged, and stood up.

He quickly grabbed her wrist to stop her walking away. "Did I say no? I don't recall saying no. I'm just surprised, that's all. I don't really do the dating thing. I never thought I'd be asked for a date from a random stranger in a random park in London."

"Well, life's just full of surprises today, then," she grinned, gripping his forearm and pulling him up to stand next to her. The remaining chips fell to the floor, forgotten.

How very unenvironmental of them.

"You don't have a hidden agenda, do you? No one's sent you to kill me or something?" he asked her, narrowing his eyes to look her over.

"Nope," she laughed. "I could just use a drink right now. With a sort of handsome guy who interestingly thinks he's an alien. You fit the bill perfectly. Let's go."

"I think that the correct thing to say, is allons-y!"

"That's French, right? I did French GCSE."

"Yep."

"It means the same thing I just said, doesn't it," she stated, suppressing a grin.

"Well, yes. But it's much more fun to say!"

He took her hand and let her lead the way.


	2. Chapter 2

_~2~_

Rose took him to her local pub, and removed her hand from his as soon as they stepped inside. She'd never been the sort of girl to partake in public displays of affection, especially not with strangers, so she felt a little odd at having let him hold her hand all the way here. Now that she was somewhere familiar, with people she knew inside, she thought it best she return to normal. He didn't seem to mind too much, and simply shoved his hands in his trouser pockets until she led him over to a table in the corner and told him to sit down.

"I'll get us some drinks, yeah?" she said. He nodded amicably. "What would you like?"

"Um..." he pondered. "I dunno, really. You decide."

"Okay..." she said slowly, and left him sitting there staring after her while she stepped up to the bar.

As he watched her order them both a bottle of beer, he ruminated over the conversation they'd had on their journey here. He considered that while they had chatted about a variety of things, and laughed quite a substantial amount more than he was used to laughing these days, he still didn't know very much about her. And of course, she knew next to nothing about him, seeing as she was still unwilling to believe he was actually an alien.

He thought perhaps he might let her think whatever she wanted to think about him, considering he was trapped on Earth for half a year anyway. He might as well have a go at playing human for a change. That everyday sort of life, meeting in a park, going for a drink in a pub, dating and dancing and...stuff...well, he was getting ahead of himself a bit, maybe, but he'd never had that adventure, and it certainly seemed like it would be an interesting adventure to have with this particular young woman, who was now walking back to him with their drinks in either hand and a wide smile on her face.

"So," he began when she sat down opposite him, realising that he really did want to get to know this girl, "Tell me about yourself."

She took a sip of her beer. "Well, there's not much to tell, really. Um... I work in a shop. Henriks."

"Henriks?"

"Yeah, you know, the big department store?"

"I don't really go shopping," he shrugged.

She arched an eyebrow. "Right...so, what, you get your mum to do it, do you?" she teased.

He tilted his head, contemplating that. "My mother lives very far away. I haven't seen her for awhile, actually. I ought to rectify that..." _Except I can't, even if I wanted to, what with them disabling my precious TARDIS, _he grumbled internally.

"Where are you from?"

He sighed. Technically he'd already told her, but...well, if she didn't believe him, maybe he should just make something up. "Um...Scotland."

"You don't sound very Scottish," she commented.

"I can change my accent really easily," he replied, adopting a Scottish accent.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks tinged a little pink. "Oh," she said, on a little exhale of breath. "That's..." She cleared her throat. "So why do you change your voice, then?"

He shrugged, and changed his accent back to answer, "I like change. I change a lot."

"Oh, okay."

She looked puzzled. He decided to move the conversation along. "So, um, how old are you?" he asked.

She gave a half smile. "It's rude to ask a lady that," she said.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Is it?"

"Mmhmm," she affirmed. She took another sip of her drink then leant forward over the table slightly and murmured, "Good job I'm no Lady, eh?"

He'd just taken a sip of his own beer, and choked a bit as she spoke. He coughed awkwardly. "Uh..."

She laughed and leant back again. "I'm twenty," she answered seriously.

He let out a long breath.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said instantly. "It's just..."

"What?"

"You're so young."

"Did you think I was older?" she asked, sounding a bit worried.

"No, not at all," he replied honestly. "It's just, knowing for certain how young you are, as opposed to me just estimating...it just makes it more..." he floundered for words. "Real."

"Real?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes."

"Age isn't a problem for you, is it? I mean, you don't look that much older than me. You're what, thirty-four, thirty-five?"

_Nine hundred and one, to be exact. _"Yes. Thirty-five," he lied. _If there's a Hell, I'm going to it._

She shrugged. "Fifteen years difference is okay."

_Yeah, but eight hundred and eighty one isn't. _"Yeah, I s'pose so."

"Although, my Mum might have something to say about it," she giggled.

His eyes bugged out of his head. "Blimey," he murmured.

"What?"

"Don't you think talking about meeting your mum is a bit...soon?" He wasn't sure what the human custom was about this, but he was certain he'd never met a mum in his life. Mind you, that was probably because he'd never really had what humans would refer to as a 'girlfriend.' It wasn't a very Time Lord-y thing, that.

He wondered whether she would want to be his girlfriend, if he were human. He wondered whether he'd want her to be, if he were human.

His eyes scanned her face, his left heart jumping a bit at the sight of her smile.

Yes. Yes, he would.

"Did I say anything about that?" she replied, looking confused. "I just meant, when I tell her about the guy I met today."

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?" She took another swig of beer.

"But what will you say, about me, to your mum?"

She shrugged, unconcerned. "Haven't made my mind up yet. We've known each other about an hour, after all."

"Right. Yes. Of course."

"Why, what would you say about me?" Her tongue touched the corner of her mouth as she smiled cheekily at him. He felt his hearts speed up a teensy tiny bit more. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with him today, but he kind of sort of liked it.

He tugged his ear nervously. "I..."

_I'll probably tell the TARDIS to check me over and make sure I've not inhaled some sort of dodgy chemicals that are for some reason making me think of you potentially in terms that don't simply include 'friend' or 'companion.' _

She took pity on him, and didn't press him for an answer. Instead, she said, "What do you do for a living, then?"

"I'm a sort of...freelancer. Scientist. Adventurer. Sometimes work for the government, as a, uh..." _Alien specialist. _"Consultant on..." _Extraterrestrial..._"International relations."

"Sounds exciting," she smiled.

"Yeah, sometimes." He looked at the bottle in his hand for a moment. "It gets a bit..."

"What?"

He swallowed, and finally admitted something he'd been trying to ignore for the past few years or so. "Lonely."

"Don't you have people you work with? People to help?"

"I used to have friends along," he answered, still not making eye contact with her. "Back in the day I was always travelling with someone or other. They each wouldn't stay long, of course, but that was okay. I soon enlisted another as my assistant," he gave a short laugh, "Whether they wanted to be or not."

"Then what happened? Why don't you have someone travelling with you now?"

"As I've got older, I've realised...well. My work, well, it's...it's dangerous. I can't keep putting people through that. They always go, or I always make them leave, before they get killed or something. But once or twice that hasn't worked out. I started feeling too guilty, kept wondering whether today would be the day they would die because of me, because of my actions."

He glanced up at her and winced when he saw her wide eyes and mouth hanging open in surprise. "Like I said. It's dangerous." He hoped that it wouldn't put her off him.

"What kind of work is it, that you do?" she mumbled uncertainly.

He smiled wistfully, and was grateful when she held his gaze and didn't look away from him in horror. "Saving people. Sometimes the whole World. That sort of thing. But for every person I try to save, there's someone who doesn't want me to save them, for whatever reason. Those are the people who make things difficult. The people who kill." He sighed. "And I can't save everyone. No matter how hard I try. I don't think there will ever be a day where everybody lives."

"You can't know that for sure," she murmured, reaching forward and placing her hand atop his. She squeezed gently, and he swallowed against the lump in his throat that was inexplicably put there by her simple act of comfort. "It must be difficult, taking on that sort of responsibility by yourself. But shouldn't the government get a team together to help you, or something? Then it wouldn't be you feeling guilty for getting someone to help, it'll be them doing their jobs, just like you do."

He shook his head a little, but smiled at her astute suggestion. "No, I work better alone."

"I don't think that's true," she disagreed softly. "'Cos if it was, you wouldn't feel lonely, would you?"

"Suppose not, no."

"And I bet it's not all doom and gloom, is it? You must get to travel around a lot, with this international relations thing. It can't all be about death and destruction; not everyone hates us British, do they? So you must get to see some fascinating places."

His smile grew to a big grin. "Yeah, I do. I really do."

"Doesn't that make it worth it, for some people? 'Cos I think I'd rather travel and see everything there is to see, than stay stuck here forever with absolutely zero excitement."

"Even though it's dangerous with me, and safe here, with your job in a shop and buses and beans on toast?"

"You know, sometimes I think I'd rather danger than boredom," she laughed. "Like...okay, so I've never told anyone this, but you're practically a secret agent anyway so I'm gonna tell you – I watch James Bond films obsessively, and really, really want to be a Bond girl. In real life, I mean, not an actress playing one. And not one of those useless ones that are just there to look pretty and shag James, but one who actually _does _something and helps him and is all action-hero-like herself. I mean, me - I've never been anywhere, never done anything remotely exciting. Oh, except that school trip to France when me and my friend Shareen sneaked off from the Louvre and got the shuttle to Parc Asterix. But that doesn't really count, 'cos then we got sent home, so that kind of backfired. Anyway, that's hardly James Bond, is it? Bunking off from looking at paintings to go on a few rollercoasters..."

As she was speaking, the Doctor had started to laugh. Proper laughter, too, that only escalated the more she spoke. He wasn't quite sure why he found what she'd just told him so funny, but it suddenly seemed the most hilarious thing ever, and his shoulders shook with mirth. Seeing him laugh so much set her off giggling too, and before they knew it they were wiping their eyes and trying to control their hysterics so that someone didn't come over and tell them to shut up.

"You," he said emphatically, once he'd stopped laughing so hard, "Are perfect."

She stared at him for a few moments, digesting his words. He did the same, wondering why on Earth he'd said that to her.

(Just because she was maybe a bit perfect for him and he kind of liked her, did not mean he was going to entertain the notion of her coming with him when all this playing human thing was done and dusted. Because he would not ever want to see this girl in danger of her life because of him. No. No way.)

Then she spoke. "So, is this where you invite me to be your assistant, Mr Bond?" She grinned at him daringly.

And then, staring into her excited young eyes, he realised something. "Oh, I don't think you're the sort of girl who could be anyone's mere assistant."

"I'm a sales assistant at Henriks, remember."

"Yeah, but that's you making do. I bet you could be a hell of a lot more than that, if the opportunity arose."

"I didn't even do my A Levels. Left school as soon as I could, at sixteen."

"So that you could start earning money to help your mum, I expect."

She shrugged. "Partly, yeah. Partly because of this stupid idiot called Jimmy Stones who reckoned him and his band was gonna make it big within months." She giggled, and leant forward conspiratorially. "They didn't."

He smiled sadly, and leant forward too. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Then you'll just have to save me, won't you?"

"But what if I couldn't?"

"Then I'd die helping you. Doesn't seem a bad way to go, really."

He turned his hand over so that he could entwine their fingers. He squeezed her hand tightly. "Don't say that. You don't even know me."

"I'd like to get to know you," she countered.

"Stop it," he murmured, but he leant forward another inch.

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything," she replied innocently.

His thumb brushed over the back of hers. "You're trying to tempt me."

"Into what?"

_Everything. _He swallowed. "Into asking you to come with me."

"So what if I am? Can't help it if it feels like an opportunity, to me," she murmured. She moved her beer out of the way and leant closer, so that there was barely a couple of inches between each of their noses.

"You could be anything you set your mind to be," he whispered. "Don't let me ruin you."

"You won't," she whispered back. "You'll make me better."

He tilted his head slightly. She did the same. His hearts beat fiercely against his chest and he really, truly, honestly didn't know what he was doing but it felt as if it would be so, so good if he just leant a little closer...

Her breath ghosted over his lips and he parted them involuntarily. He was sure he'd quite possibly lost his mind, but he was equally sure that nothing in the World would stop him kissing this (_too young) _beautiful, wonderful girl –

Then the pub shook as its inhabitants heard a BANG.

- except maybe that great big explosion outside.

They jumped back from each other in shock, their hands letting go of each other's, and they turned their heads at exactly the same time to look out of the window at the newfound chaos of an ordinary London street.


End file.
